


Shelby

by bombcollar



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Family, Gen, Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombcollar/pseuds/bombcollar
Summary: octarian families work differently.





	Shelby

**Author's Note:**

> can be seen as a sort of companion piece to 'diaspora'

_eyes open to a bright green glow_  
_faces blur past through fogged glass_  
_but yours is one I'll always know_

"802-5679-33... is that correct?"

"Yes," the Octarian soldier grunts. His round eyes dart to and fro, and Shelby suspects, despite his gruff demeanor, that he's rather anxious about the procedure. Every healthy adult Octarian, military and civilian, grunt or elite Octoling, was required to donate tentacle cuttings once a year. He must be at least her own age, so it was funny to see him so nervous.

She cracks a watery smile as she ticks a box on her tablet near his ID number, sets it aside, then grips a tentacle in her hand, holding just behind the last sucker. "It will only hurt for a moment." There was no point in lying about it; they were all adults here, though he should really know by now. The cloning tank stands next to them, its lid open, emitting humid warmth like an open mouth.

"Wait, wait-" The donor speaks up as she reaches for the cutter, a handheld device with a small laser for a blade, its shape resembling a letter F on it s side. "Can I just- can I have a moment."  
Shelby sighs. "...yes, but only a moment. There are lots of other donors waiting..."

She did this nearly every week, sometimes more, sometimes less depending on population needs. She and all the hundreds of other cloning technicians across all of the Valley. Although military centers were considered high-priority in terms of supply and power, nothing in the entirety of Octo Valley was as well-protected as the cloning facilities. Their survival quite literally depended on it, with so much of the population now clones themselves, unable to have their own children the usual way.

That was not to say they had no children. Shelby was a mother herself, to several dozen young Octarians, clones she'd been assigned to rear, to feed, to teach, and eventually to divide up and send on their ways to whatever role higher management decided to give them. The hardiest and most talented children might be sent off to foster families who would instruct them in weapons development, in biochemistry or military training, but even those who didn't make the cut still found a place. She herself was frail, unsuited to heavy labor due to a muscular disorder. Her tentacles lay limp around her face and shoulders. Many who worked in the cloning facility had physical disabilities, but their patience and ability to teach made them perfectly suited to the job of rearing the next generation.

"Are you ready, now?"

"...yes, I'm ready. Please, do it qui-" He doesn't even get to finish before Shelby turns the cutter on, slicing the tip of his tentacle up to the first sucker. It falls into the vat with a quiet _plop_. He sucks air in through his beak, grimacing.

Shelby pats him on the back. "Very good... Let's do the next one, shall we?"

He grimaces as she takes a second tentacle, but as she readies the cutter, one of her coworkers walks in, waving to get her attention. "Shelby? Shelby- Hold on, someone's here to see you. She was very insistent, I'm sorry."

Her brows knitting in confusion, Shelby sets the cutter down. "Who is it?"

"One of yours, I think. She didn't seem to know for sure. Should I send her in? I can ask her to wait."

It strikes Shelby as odd. She'd helped raise and see off many Octarian children, but any one of them would have waited patiently for her to finish her shift. Something seemed off to her. "...yes, you can send her in." She turns to the soldier she'd been collecting cuttings from. "I'm sorry, we'll do this another time."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll be back, I promise!" He seems only too relieved to be out of there as he waddles out the door, and Shelby closes the vat, wringing her fingers and waiting to see who'd enter in his stead.  
She remembered all of them, of course. Even after they'd grown, no longer amorphous inky little creatures or stubby tentacles, she knew them all. They came back to visit her and the other cloning technicians, the ones who'd served as their earliest caretakers. Their very first family, unconventional as their births might be. She knows this girl, too, though she walks in dressed as an Inkling, in a pink hooded sweatshirt and colorful sneakers. In spite of her outfit, there's a weariness in her eyes, a look of loss, of one who knows exhaustion down to her core. She frowns when Shelby calls her name, as if she knows it should mean something to her, but it doesn't.

"...what's the matter? You don't remember me?" Shelby asks instead, holding her hands out. The girl hesitates, then signs, _Eight_ , and points to herself.

"Eight... You want to be called Eight?"

The girl, Eight, nods and grabs Shelby's offered hands, peering closely at her face. Her eyes have begun to well with tears as she searches, grasping for something Shelby wasn't sure how to give her. "It's alright," Shelby murmurs, giving the girl's hands a squeeze, feeling tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm just glad to see you again, but you look so tired, dear... What's happened?"

She was weary, pale, fidgeting with the unfamiliar material of her clothes. So many had gone to the surface, gone but not lost, out of reach. Sometimes they returned, disillusioned with the promised glory of the surface, but mostly not. Shelby was sad to see them go, but she knew she could not stop them, nor should she. With every new clipping she prepared, every number she assigned, every child she comforted in the dead of lights-out, she wondered which would stay, and which she might never see again, whether it was illness or accident, or now, the city that took them.

Eight raises her hands then lowers them again, biting her lip and glancing away. She elects to fold herself into Shelby's skinny arms instead, clutching at the back of her uniform, burying her face in her chest. "It's alright, you're home now. You don't have to force yourself, if you don't know..." Shelby holds her, stroking the back of her tentacles. The ends are scattered with small scars, discolored pale blue splashes. She can't begin to guess at what her child has been through. Though she can't see, her fingers brush more scarring on the nape of Eight's neck. She flinches, and Shelby jerks her hand away, as if she'd found something she shouldn't have.

"I'm sorry, I..." Suddenly she can't find the words either, hugging the girl as tightly as her frail strength will allow, squeezing her eye shut as tears stream down her cheeks. _What happened to you,_ she wants to ask, but she simply can't find the words. _Where have you been? Why did you come back?_

_Who did this to you?_

It's as if her Octarian sensibilities flicked a switch within her head. Of course, even if she did know, she could do nothing. Her place was here, there were appointments she must keep, children she must take care of. So many depending on her. Eight has pulled away a little, her face flushed from crying, but her eyes seem clearer now, and she manages a shaky smile.

"Ah... Goodness, I'm so sorry." Shelby sniffs, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "You've come all this way and here I am, breaking down... You've grown so much."

Eight's smile broadens, enough to show the white points of her beak, even as fresh tears bead in her eyes. Shelby leans in and kisses her forehead. "I know... you must have left for a reason. And I know this place doesn't have everything the surface does. Not even close. But if you're ever missing something, you can always come home. Remember that, for me. And remember, I will always love you."

Just seeing the clarity fill Eight's eyes is enough, seeing them widen and glitter in the dim green lighting. Even if she never returned to the underground, it would be enough just to know that Shelby had helped, that her words had meant something.

All the same, it would be nice to see her smile again.


End file.
